


Step Back. Reality Check.

by lionessvalenti



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Dissociation, F/M, M/M, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 06:36:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5487269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/pseuds/lionessvalenti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have to tell me. Did this actually happen?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Step Back. Reality Check.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [karmula](https://archiveofourown.org/users/karmula/gifts).



Stop.

Step back.

Reality check.

The problem is, you can't have a reality check with a voice you created in your head. Even if you could talk back, you'd only tell me what I want to hear. That I don't hallucinate. That I'm not an addict. That I'm definitely walking into Tyrell Wellick's bedroom. I couldn't trust any of it even if you could speak to me. Voices lie all the time.

That's what voices in your head are for.

Tyrell speaks, but it's hard to hear, like static through a radio. "Elliot... my wife, Joanna."

She isn't naked, but only just. The sheer piece of black fabric she's wearing hides nothing. Not her skin, or her breasts, or her full pregnant belly. She's flawless, like Tyrell. Not a hair of out place, and no hint of a stretch mark. She looks airbrushed, like a bus ad for perfume.

Tyrell in his designer suit. Joanna's dark nipples on full display. Elliot wearing dirty jeans because he can't remember the last time he did laundry and a hoodie that smells like the subway. And you wonder why I don't think this is actually happening.

"What am I doing here?"

Joanna and Tyrell share a look, a calculated expression. She says something not in English, at least you hope it's not in English or you're crazier than you ever thought you were. Tyrell's hand rests on your shoulder, and you pull away. He's not smiling when your gaze finally reaches his face.

"Just take off your clothes, Elliot."

The command is simple and straightforward, and you're taking off your clothes before you even register that you're doing it.

"Did you bring me here to have sex with your wife?"

Joanna laughs. Tyrell doesn't.

"If you had sex with my wife, I would rip off your head with my bare hands. I brought you here to have sex with me. And my wife."

There's an interesting distinction there that isn't worth questioning. The dynamic is set. Tyrell is in charge. Then Joanna. And you fall nowhere on that scale. You're just here. Human dildo. Power play. Pawn. Plaything. Any reason will suffice.

This is what the 1% can do.

"You don't like to be touched," Joanna says.

You shake your head.

She takes off her pointless piece of fabric. It falls to the floor. "Do you like to be kissed?"

"Sometimes."

She laughs again. Something about her seems warm and inviting, but also as sharp and as dangerous as a knife's edge. You're both naked, but somehow, you feel more exposed. She touches your face with her soft fingers. She touches your lips with her soft lips. Her stomach touches yours.

Is this really happening? You have to tell me, even if it's a lie. Is this really happening?

"Have you ever sucked a dick before?"

You open your eyes. To say yes seems about as right as answering no. "I don't remember."

Next to you, Tyrell unbuckles his belt. He unzips his pants. He pulls out his cock.

You get on your knees. Maybe Joanna pushes you. Maybe you do it on your own. It's hard to tell anymore.

He smells expensive, like wool and cologne, and you take his dick in your mouth like you're desperate for it. You had no idea how much you wanted it until it's in there. You grab him by his hips, slurping loudly, almost choking, and you take in more.

Human fleshlight. Sex toy. You might as well be a blow up doll.

And you don't even care.

Above you, Tyrell and Joanna speak in their language. While you desperately suck Tyrell's cock as if your life depended on it, they chat like they're at a dinner party. Tyrell's hands on Joanna's belly. His hands on her breasts. Her fingers are in his mouth.

Tyrell explodes in your mouth. You cough and choke on his come and your spit, as you turn your head away. You swallow hard. Cough, swallow, repeat.

Joanna grabs you by the hair and points your head back to Tyrell's dick. "Lick it," she says.

Come is still dripping from the tip of his flagging cock. You lean forward, only an inch and capture the head of his cock with your tongue. You can actually taste him now, salty and thick.

She pulls your hair again. "Up."

You get to your feet and she pushes you onto the bed. She's in your vision, Tyrell behind her. He's taking off his jacket. She's climbing onto the bed with more grace than a pregnant woman should have. Tyrell takes off his tie. Joanna mounts you.

You're not really here because this isn't actually happening.

Tyrell wraps his tie, silk and expensive, around Joanna's head, over her eyes. He ties it and she makes a noise, her chest hitching unnaturally. His arms slide around her body and he holds himself flush against her. He whispers in her ear. He moves with her as she rides you.

"Don't come until she does," he says. He locks his gaze with yours. "She's having her way."

You pull the silk sheets into your fists. This is supposed to be the good part. The expectation. The holding out until you can't hold out any longer. You could come at any second, but you think about the half empty bottle of mustard in your fridge at home. The knock-off Easy Mac in the cupboard.

Joanna moans and Tyrell's hand slides between her legs. He never looks away from you. You may have to look away if he doesn't want you to come, but maintains eye contact.

The work Tyrell has made with his hands comes through and Joanna's moans turn to cries. She writhes against you, against Tyrell's hand. She throws her head back, pushing all her weight onto Tyrell. And she relaxes there.

He helps her off of you. She lays down next to you, and he carefully removes her blindfold. He looks at you, surprised almost. "Elliot, you can come now."

But you can't. You grip the sheets tighter, and Joanna says something. Tyrell never takes his eyes off you. He's still dressed, in his shirt and his pants, and he lowers himself between your legs.

Tyrell's mouth is on your cock. His hand is wrapped around your balls. His lips suck, every so slightly, on the head of your dick, and his tongue works its way into the slit. Joanna stretches out her arm and her fingers find your nipple. She pinches it.

You come, and your spurting all over yourself. Tyrell somehow got out of the way. He watches with mild interest.

"I should go," you say.

"No," Joanna says, her eyes locked with Tyrell's. "You should stay."

* * *

Tyrell sleeps with his arm protectively around his wife. She sleeps on her side, her arm cradling her stomach. Elliot is awake, and he crawls out of bed.

You put on your clothes. You find Tyrell's laptop. His computer is easy to crack, unlike him. You look up only when you hear footsteps. Tyrell stands there, naked, cock half hard.

"Is this what you came for, Elliot?"

You blink at him. Were you the one who approached him? Did you convince him to take you home to fuck his wife? To suck his dick? Had you begged? You have to tell me what I did. How did I do it? How did you do it?

You rip the thumb drive from the computer. You leave. You run.

You can't be sure any of it was real. There's really no way to know until Tyrell finds you. Because if it happened, he will find you. The repercussions will be endless.

Step back.

Stop.

Stop.

Stop.


End file.
